In case there’s any doubt in your mind that I am a bit on the nerdy side, listen to the dream I had last night.
In my dream, we were moving West to settle the land. It was the year of our Lord, 2018, and we were moving West. Clearly, my dreaming brain didn’t take into account that we have no more unexplored territory in the West, here in the United States. No matter. Dreaming brains are like that. But, yes. We were moving West, and we were taking animals with us, and I’m fairly certain we looked like the Beverly Hillbillies meets a circus train, as we migrated.
When we got to the new territory, there were aliens there who had never seen animals, the likes of which we were unloading. And please… don’t think “aliens,” as in people who are from a different land, because that would be too normal. In my dreaming brain, these were aliens with three eyes and twelve fingers, green skin and two sets of antennae. They spoke gibberish and had space ships parked in their garages. Everyone of us who had just gotten off the train in this new territory was being assigned a class to teach on our animals, and lo! EVERYONE wanted to teach classes on lions! And tigers! And bears! Oh, my!! We were all hoping that we would be assigned to a really fun animal to teach about. Eventually, the teaching assignments were typed out on a sheet of paper, which was then tacked up on a bulletin board, exactly like they would have done it at Laura Ingalls’ post office in Walnut Grove. We all crowded around to see WHAT ANIMAL WE WOULD BE TEACHING THE ALIENS ABOUT, and there was my name! And the class that I got to teach was called…
… You and Your Pet Ostrich.
I told the lady who tacked the assignment sheet up on the board, “I am supposed to teach about ostriches, and I don’t know anything about ostriches.” And she told me, “I don’t care. I’m just here to hang up the list of classes, and I have nothing to actually DO with assigning the classes.”
And then I woke up, which was a gigantic help, because I was about to teach a three minute class, with the entire lecture being, “Please enjoy your flightless bird that lays huge eggs and buries its head in the sand. There will be no test, because those are the only things I actually know about ostriches.”
If y’all aren’t done reading this blog by now, may Jesus just draw near to you. The content is ridiculous on most days.
But… what is NOT ridiculous is how handsome my boys are.
One of them dresses in collared shirts and sweaters, dark jeans and loafer shoes, every single day. His wardrobe choices cry out, daily, “I am having dinner on the yacht tonight, so please send a valet to park my Rolls Royce.”
The other one wore a black sweatshirt to school today, with black gym shorts over his black Under Armour basketball tights. He picked out his own clothes and dressed himself, and THIS is how he would dress, every single day of his life, if his meddling mother didn’t interfere and make him wear jeans and a collared shirt to church most Sundays. His wardrobe choice shouts out, every day, “I’m heading to the gym, for my workout.”
I love them both so much, except for when the little one is sassy and when the bigger one conveniently forgets to mow the yard sometimes.
At least they both lead adventurous lives. Neither one of them will ever be teaching a class called You and Your Pet Ostrich. Nope. They’ll both get to teach courses like Shake that Shark and Corral that Cobra. Don’t mind me, over here with the giant bird who doesn’t fly.